


A Most Unusual Vacation

by afteriwake



Series: A Past Love [21]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murder at the hotel where they’re staying puts a damper on the planned vacation, and a bit of well followed advice from Sherlock saves Amy’s life and catches the killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Unusual Vacation

She had had to work the first four days were there, and he walked away with a newfound appreciation of what his girlfriend went through while she was at work. She was one of four female models picked for the job, and he noticed two of them seemed to pay him extra attention when they first met up. Amy had solved that problem by kissing him in a rather possessive way, and while he did not mind he did not realize other women could make her jealous until that point. But she worked hard and he worked hard at remaining out of the way, with the exception of the day he got roped into helping, exploring bits of the city on his own while she was working.

He had found a few interesting places to go with her as her job finished, but the first thing she insisted on doing was spending some time on the beach the Thursday afternoon, after she finished her morning shoot. She had bought a bikini and he had bought a pair of swim trunks and they were lounging around the beach near their hotel.

“God, I wanted to smack Bridget for trying to get in the front of every group shot this morning,” she said, adjusting her hat. “Be happy you weren’t around for the last one. The photographer put Virginia in front and she nearly walked away. It was tense.”

“I didn’t realize being in front was so important,” he said.

“I honestly could care less. I do this to pay my bills, not for fame. If the photographer wants me in the back I go in the back. If he wants me in the front I go in the front. I just want to get it over and done with and get the shots I need taken with as little fuss as possible.” She turned and grinned at him. “Thank you for stepping in when Fredric disappeared.”

“The only reason I did it was it was posing with you,” he said.

“I think you’re handsome enough to make a go at it,” she said with a laugh. “I found out Fredric went across the border to Tijuana and got picked up for being drunk in public. The people in charge were very unhappy. I think one of them was about to throw an offer at your feet for stepping in.”

“No thank you,” he said. “I’ve walked away with a new appreciation at how hard your job can be. I prefer being a consulting detective.”

She laughed, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I had the photographer slip me a picture of us. I think I’m going to put it on my nightstand as proof you once did modeling.”

“I don’t want anyone to know, but I guess that’s not going to happen,” he said.

“Nope. It’s supposed to be a big campaign.” She settled back onto her towel. “So what all did you do the other days?”

“Went exploring. I went up to what they called North County yesterday. Landed in a city called Oceanside, and then I took a cab to Carlsbad. There are a few interesting things there but they’re all meant for tourists.”

“Which is what we are. Anything you think I might like?”

“There’s a thing called a ‘sunset market’ in Oceanside tonight. From what I was told it’s booths and live music. There’s also a restaurant near the beach with rooftop dining. I thought perhaps we could have dinner there. I had lunch there and the food was decent.”

“When does it start?”

“Five. And I was told it’s easier to take the train up there.”

“Yeah, I saw the trains when we were at the fountain by the station,” she said. “Amtrak and Coaster, right?”

He nodded. “I propose we take the train up, spend some time there, and take a cab back to our hotel.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” she said with a nod. She stood up, brushed the sand from her and then shook out her towel as he did the same. Then she put on her wrap and they walked back to their hotel.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes,” the concierge said. “We had hoped you’d be back soon. There’s someone from the police department who wishes to speak to you.”

“I’m on vacation,” he said.

“It’s most urgent.”

Amy shook her head. “Go ahead. I’ll be up in our room.” 

She turned and walked away as he went with the concierge to the front desk. A man in uniform was standing there, and next to him was a man in a suit. He did a quick scan and realized the man in the suit was the one in charge. “Yes?” Sherlock said.

“Detective Johnson. There’s been a murder,” he said, offering Sherlock a hand, which he shook. “We found out the victim was British, here on a work passport, so we contacted Scotland Yard. A Detective Inspector Lestrade told us you were in town. We thought perhaps you might help.”

He was going to kill Lestrade when he got home. With a sigh, he nodded. “Very well.”

“The victim was a model, a Virginia Leeds.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “I’ve met her.”

“Oh?” the man in uniform asked.

“Yes. I’m accompanying my girlfriend here for the photo shoot, Amelia Pond.”

“Was she the redhead you came in here with?” Detective Johnson asked.

“Yes, that would be Amelia.”

“Were you with her this afternoon?”

He nodded. “I met up with her when the shoot was over at ten. We went shopping for swimwear and have been out on the beach for the last three hours.”

“Virginia was killed two hours ago, so that rules her out as a suspect,” the man in the uniform said. “I don’t think you’d lie about it.” Sherlock was beginning to get annoyed by him.

“I can vouch for them, at any rate,” the concierge said. “I directed them where to go shopping four hours ago, and then three hours ago they came back and asked where the best spot on the beach would be. I watched them come in from the beach, and I would have seen them if they had come back inside.”

“Where was she murdered?” Sherlock asked.

“In her room, down the hall from your own rooms,” the concierge said.

“Let me change into something more appropriate and inform Amelia that our plans have changed,” he said with a sigh.

“You can meet us at her room,” Detective Johnson said.

He made his way to his room, and found Amelia sitting on her bed, staring at her hands. “You’ve heard?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. She looked up and he could see she’d been crying. “Virginia was a friend. She and I did Milan together. She was such a nice person.” She dashed away a new set of tears with the back of her hand. “Promise me you’ll find out who did this.”

“I will,” he said. He went to the closet and pulled out a suit and a shirt, then went to the bathroom and changed. When he came out Amy was curled up on her bed. He sat next to her and set a hand on her arm. “Do you want to go home after this?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, rolling onto her back. “Who did they contact in Scotland Yard? Lestrade?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll call him. Virginia’s an orphan, but I have her boyfriend’s number. She told me if anything ever happened to make sure he knew.”

“I’m sure Lestrade would appreciate getting it,” he said. He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here and don’t let anyone in except me and anyone in uniform.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting up and reaching for her phone. He went out the door and walked down the hall to the crime scene. Even if he hadn’t known which room she was in before it would be hard to miss with the policemen outside. He ducked under the crime tape outside the door and looked around. There had been a struggle, and from the amount of blood it was a stabbing. That was confirmed when he got to the body and the coroner pulled back the sheet.

“I’ve already counted thirteen stab wounds, and that’s just in the torso and chest,” the coroner said in a familiar accent. “Bet you don’t recognize me, Sherlock,” she added with a slight grin.

He looked closely, and then his eyes widened. “Miranda Eastlake.”

“I was hoping the blonde hair and the tan would fool you,” she said with a slight laugh. “I transferred here from St. Bart’s when I got sick of the cold weather in London. How’s my replacement?”

“You trained Molly more than adequately,” he said. “She is a good contact to have.”

“I’d hoped that would be the case.” She pulled the sheet back over the body. “When Detective Johnson said that Greg Lestrade recommended you I warned him about you, so he knows to expect brilliance and arrogance.”

“The arrogance has toned down quite a lot in the last few years,” Sherlock said. “Faking ones death and making his own way without friends will do that to a man.”

“Yeah, news of your suicide made it all the way out here,” she said. “I didn’t believe it for a second, and then I saw news that you had faked it and I knew I was right. I’ll have more details once I get her to the morgue, if you need them.”

“Thank you.” He stood up as Miranda called over two people waiting with a gurney. Sherlock moved out of their way and began looking around, taking in every detail. There had been quite a struggle, but she had known her attacker, this much was for sure. 

He stepped out into the hall and glanced at his room. There was someone there, knocking at the door. It was one of the other models. He started to make his way down there when the model began screaming at the door. _Good job, Amelia_ , he thought as he and one of the uniformed cops hurried over there. She saw the approaching men and ran, but not before dropping something. 

“Go after her,” he said to the cop, and he stopped by the object. It was a bloody knife. “Detective Johnson!” he called out. The Detective came out from the room and came over. Sherlock pointed to the bloody knife. “I do believe that’s your murder weapon. Your killer just attempted to make a repeat of her actions against Amelia.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “She flipped her lid?”

“Something like that, yes,” he said. “It was the model named Bridget. I never caught her last name.”

“We were just going to go to her room to question her,” he said. He called over a crime scene technician to take pictures and bag the evidence while Sherlock knocked on his door.

“Amelia, it’s me” he said. After a moment the door flung open and she threw her arms around him. He held her close. “The cops are looking for her now,” he said quietly. “I am very glad you didn’t open the door.”

“Oh, God, she wanted to kill me too?” she said.

“Yes, but you did exactly what I told you and you didn’t open the door,” he said. He pulled away from her slightly and looked at her. “You’re going to be safe.”

Just them the cop came around the corner, with Bridget in handcuffs. She was screaming and snarling at Amy, and lunged towards her. Amy jumped slightly and moved back, but Sherlock stayed where he was as she passed by. Detective Johnson surveyed the scene. “Kind of a waste of your talents,” he said to Sherlock.

“I’m rather glad for it,” he said. “Do we need to stay longer?”

“I’ll ask Amelia the questions I wanted to ask her now and then you’re free to go. Just leave a contact number where I can reach you.”

“We can go home after this? Like, back to England?”

Detective Johnson nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry this ruined your trip.”

“You and me both,” she said. “I lost a good friend to a crazy woman who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention and she almost killed me.”

“At least it wasn’t someone from San Diego. This bag of crazy came from your neck of the woods.”

“Yeah, I know,” Amy said with a sigh. “Let’s go in so I can sit.”

The three of them went into the room, and Detective Johnson asked what seemed like a million questions about the shoot, the way everyone was acting and other things. By the time he was done it was nearly five PM. Sherlock shut the door behind him and turned to her. “Do you want to see about getting a flight home now?”

“Yes,” she said, her feet on the bed and her arms around her knees. “So much for a vacation, or the opportunity to do something normal with you.”

He smiled slightly. “We’ll have at least one day where something doesn’t go wrong and we can have a proper date.”

“Yeah? When?” she asked, putting her feet on the floor.

“When we get home. I’ll take you somewhere, just us, and we’ll do something normal.” He sat down next to her and she put her head on his shoulder. “I know you must be disappointed. But just think for a moment.”

“About what?”

“You’ll probably need to come back here for the trial. They’ll want you as a witness for the events leading up to today.”

She groaned and then laid down on the bed, reaching for the pillow and putting it over her face. “That is not the way I want to come back to California,” she said, barely coherent thanks to the pillow.

“I’ll have to come back too, so we can try again,” he said as he laid down next to her and lifted the pillow off her face. She looked at him, saw he had a slight smile on her face, and despite herself she smiled back.

“Oh, Sherlock. You are not supposed to use an upcoming court date to cheer me up,” she said, reaching over for his hand and squeezing it.

“But it worked?”

“A bit, yeah,” she said. Then she sighed. “Guess we should start packing.”

“That would probably be a good idea,” he said. She moved closer and kissed him. “What was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.

“For telling me not to open the door,” she said. She sat up and let go of his hand and began pulling her luggage out from under the bed. He got up and did the same, and they began to pack. This was certainly not how he had wanted the vacation to turn out, but at least Amy was safe. That was what mattered in the end.


End file.
